Chapter 28
For the past ten years, Elia had never once been angry at him. Not even a single complaint.
A crack was forming in what he thought was an unbreakable bond that would never change, even after decades.
What could possibly be the problem? Was it really just because of that insignificant bastard? He couldn’t believe it. No, he didn’t want to believe it.
“Does that even matter?”
Elia glared at Cyrone with eyes full of dread. She shook off his hand and raised her voice.
“You tried to kill someone right in front of me.”
To Elia, whether that person was Rias or not barely mattered. What was important was the raw murderous intent Cyrone had shown.
“If that bastard disappears, we can go back. That’s why.”
Cyrone pleaded toward Elia. His sharply handsome face twisted painfully with desperation.
Elia could only stare in shock. Cyrone had lost all traces of reason. To him, Rias wasn’t human. He’s just an obstacle, a creature to be crushed and erased.
“Cyrone, why…!”
His eyes were empty, devoid of any human feeling. Elia let out a bitter laugh, stunned by the sheer cruelty radiating from him. It was so vivid it chilled her to the bone.
“Answer me. Why are you like this? Why are you doing this to me?”
Cyrone acted as though he felt and heard nothing, yet stubbornly held both of Elia’s hands, refusing to let go. Elia, drained, slowly shook her head.
“Really…”
She understood all too well. There was nothing left to say to Cyrone. At this moment, she didn’t want to be with him even for a second. A terrible chill crawled through her whole body.
“Stop it. Please, stop.”
With trembling legs, Elia barely stood and began walking toward the door as if desperate to escape immediately.
“Do you regret it?”
Cyrone suddenly grabbed her wrist urgently. His usually dry, calm voice trembled wildly.
“Do you really regret loving me?”
Elia stopped and looked at him. Their eyes met longer and deeper than ever before.
“No, right? You don’t, do you? You can’t.”
Cyrone shook his head, denying it to himself. His usually arrogant eyes were swollen red, looking like they were about to overflow with tears.
“Yes. I regret it.”
Elia’s gaze was clear and resolute, without a trace of hesitation. Though their eyes remained locked, the relationship between them had completely shifted.
“How many times do I have to tell you?”
Elia twisted her hand free from his grasp. Cyrone’s fingers slowly lost their grip.
“I don’t want to regret anymore.”
Whispering the words, Elia slowly turned away. Her footsteps echoed sharply in Cyrone’s ears. The heavy door slammed shut with a thud, and Elia was gone.
A cold darkness crashed down over Cyrone’s head.
“So naive.”
Cyrone let out a low laugh as he glared at the door. It was then that the world, blurred and hazy, began to ripple.
Something poured down over his face, but Cyrone didn’t even know what it was. It felt like raw flesh being torn open, bleeding out.
“…Regretting it now won’t change a thing.”
He clenched his teeth hard to swallow those worthless feelings.
* * *
Cyrone stood motionless for a long time, until the stormy world finally quieted. Only the lost moonlight lingered by his side.
He stepped outside the door in the dead of night. His final destination was before the iron tower with its two heavy locks. A place touching the sky, where no breath of earth remained.
As he approached, dust stirred in the air. The darkness beneath his feet was pitch black. It was repulsive, and impenetrable by even a sliver of light.
“Are you really going in?”
Nielsen stood before the tower, asking anxiously several times. But Cyrone made no reply, only moving forward until the darkness completely swallowed his silhouette. Nielsen couldn’t bring himself to follow.
“Cyrone… you’ve come.”
Click. The last lock was undone. Only then did the devil notice the presence of a human and let out a strange laugh. It was a rusty, harsh voice like metal grinding.
Cyrone ventured deeper and deeper, cutting through the pitch-black darkness that seemed impossible to penetrate.
In that stale, foul dust-filled air, untouched by human hands, suddenly, a flash of cold blue light shot up.
“You’re my son, aren’t you? My son, Cyrone?”
A woman who had collapsed suddenly scrambled to her feet. She wildly tried to fix her disheveled hair and clawed desperately at the cold iron floor of the cage.
“Cyrone, you’ve come to give your heart to me, haven’t you?”
Her eyes rolled back as if she couldn’t see. Then she crawled toward the cage on her knees. Her sharpened nails raked at Cyrone’s waist as if tearing him apart. But unable to straighten her legs, her hands never reached near his heart.
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